Watching Barack

watching Barack between
necks, shoulders, on tippy toes, then
sinking into a kind of claustrophobia
looking at chests, down at shoes,
at children sitting at their parents' feet
I stretch up again towards his voice
called Forward again, Forward
not back to the last century where
women walked behind their man,
where the poor sickened and died,
forward towards education and
prosperity for all, an ideal
worth striving for.

Flat Black

Ordering a flat black or a cappucino
depending on locale, the accent of the barrista across the counter
smiling through very white teeth, not sure if its genuine. perhaps
soliciting a tip, did she think I looked generous
pulling my non-descript beige handbag across my body,
unzipping the small leather wallet inside, I
spill the change all over the floor,
looking sheepishly up at her and her very white teeth, I
gathered all the coins to
deposit them into her gaping tip jar, her very white teeth
gleamed at me in sincere appreciation.

Who stole my eyeglasses?

none in the kitchen
none on my bed next to Four Fish
not one to be found in the bathroom
next to the New York Times,
missing a pair in my messenger bag
and none in my purse,
how will I order from the menu?
who took them, every pair, the $1.99 pair
from McGuckin Tent Sale, the two
I bought the one time I ventured to
Costco, the pink ones, the striped ones,
the ones that are too weak now.
five pair stacked up in the one
place I never look, how did they
get there?
I'm sure someone was stealing
them, there are others around
here that will need glasses
soon.

Who reads these poems anyway?

who reads these poems anyway,
to relieve boredom at work, to pass the time
when someone else has the newspaper?
who reads these poems anyway,
stand up and state your name and occupation,
your age and gender, your favorite color
and whether you prefer cats or dogs.
where were you born?
how many languages do you speak
and do you understand these words
which float out into the electronic
abyss...
who reads these poems anyway?
I do, since I write them,
my name is Jenny, I am a scientist,
I'm 54 and female, I like purple ok,
I speak English and French, and was
born in Chicago, and I
prefer dogs because they don't make
me sneeze.

French Flashcards

Je suis prete
avec mon francais, je connais
tellements des mots, pas de probleme!
jusqu'au moment quand j'ai ouvri ma
boite ds "French Vocabulary"and
I pulled out 8 random cards:
coat, jacket, raincoat, scarf, socks
et je ne savais qu'un des mots!
chaussettes et peut-etre meme
with the correct gender, is it
la chaussette ou le chaussette.
I was humbled, but learned quickly:
le manteau, la veste, l'impermeable,
hmm, forget scarf et les chaussettes.
Maintenant je suis prete d'aller
a la France!

Photographs on the Wall in a Coffee Shop

Waning, the moon suspended in space over a gazelle at dusk.
Waxing, not quite a perfect spherical droplet perched precisely
Wanting, a drink, he reaches for a cold one inside the refrigerator
Whispering, amongst themselves, deciding who is next.
Waiting, for dinner, a cat sits at the window
On the wing, flamingos launching, wings open,
one leg lifts, then the other
Where
we all go one day,
the unknown.

Crazy People

who are these people, their tethers hanging by a single strand
that stretches over days, weeks and months, two years until
it snaps, a bullet breaks the sound barrier to kill
who are these people, the artist, the intellectual, the scientist
who have the brains to do so much
good
only to tumble towards their own hell
carrying others with them